My Mothers' Eyes
by The Mysterious Blind Bandit
Summary: An impossible meeting and the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Promptfic for Napoleon Bonerfart: Ikuko x Queen Serenity, "I'm lost."


"You understand that by doing this I am breaking every single one of the rules you insisted on hammering into me yourself. These are not things to be trifled with."

"I understand. Of course I do. I understand well enough to know I can never thank you enough for this. But I simply have to know."

"Your devotion to that girl will be the death of you."

"Is that a prediction? I've never known you to give them so freely, Sailor Pluto."

"No, that was merely an observation from a neutral bystander."

"Ha! As if any of us could be neutral. I've seen the way you look at her, you're not fooling anyone. I've seen the way _those four_ look at her, as well. The devotion already burning in their eyes is enough to frighten even me, and they're still nothing but children themselves."

"Then you know your precious princess will be protected like nothing and nobody else in the universe. What more could a mother possibly want?"

"You are clearly not a mother yourself, Pluto. There is one thing left: I have to know how _she_ looks at her."

* * *

><p>Sometimes, Ikuko Tsukino seriously worried for her daughter.<p>

Honestly, that Usagi… a 30 on a simple English test? What was she _thinking_? Well, not much, it seemed. How did she expect to get into a decent high school, let alone anywhere in life, with those scores? Why, just the other day the Asahi Shimbun had run that article analysing high school entry exam results from the past decade – hot on the heels of another abysmal failure on a geography quiz courtesy of her daughter – Ikuko had felt like screaming. And with her Usagi having no particularly special talents to pursue, nor the perseverance to stick with anything for longer than a few days…

Ikuko shook her head, sighing to herself as she walked back home from a quick trip to fetch some groceries she needed to make dinner. Well, she could easily have gone without most of the things she was hauling around in overfilled bags right now, but she'd truly needed to clear her head.

Caught up in pondering her daughter's rather miserable future prospects, she was left with no time to avoid walking right into the person emerging from just around the corner, a questioning hand raised and calling out an unfortunately cut off "Pardon me, I'm lost. Could you point me in-".

Groceries went flying, as they do, with a particularly mean-spirited bag of apples tearing out of Ikuko's hands and spilling its contents onto the pavement, almost as if to spite her.

"Oh, excuse me. I am terribly sorry, how clumsy of me. Here, allow me to assist you." The stranger quickly bent down to gather the escaped fruit, with an air of grace and refinement that seemed otherworldly, to say the least, and a _very_ muffled mutter about something that sounded suspiciously like "gravity differences" that Ikuko wouldn't have picked up on if not for her extensive training in making sense of a sullen Shingo's mumbles.

There was something incredibly familiar about the stranger, though, that Ikuko just couldn't seem to place.

"Have I seen you on TV?" She blurted out, so caught up in observing the silver-haired woman before her she forgot to actually chase after the rest of her runaway belongings. "Pardon me, that was rude."

"No offense taken," the stranger replied mildly, handing Ikuko her recovered things, "but no, I don't think you could have seen me anywhere. Perhaps I merely remind you of someone?"

Of course, with her hair done up in twin buns like that there was no mistaking who Ikuko was being reminded of – who she hadn't stopped thinking of all day.

"Yes, now that you mention it. It has to be your hairstyle – my daughter wears her hair just like that."

"Your daughter?" There was a slightly cold undertone to the woman's words now, along with an odd glint in her rather intense gaze. Ikuko let out a nervous laugh, and pressed on.

"Oh, yes, my daughter – she's fourteen. It's funny, I used to be worried about how she insisted on having me make those buns for her every morning when she was small. I thought the other children would tease her, especially with her name – Usagi, that is. And then she learned to put her hair up herself - honestly, one of the few times she actually listened and paid attention to me explaining something to her. Don't misunderstand, she is a wonderful girl, truly – but I'm afraid she's all heart and not much besides. You can understand, I'm sure, why her poor mother would worry?"

"Oh, I do. I have a little girl just like that at home. She's some years younger than yours, but will grow up to be much the same, I think," the stranger replied with a slight, wistful smile, making Ikuko wonder – with the long, silver hair and the strange distance in her eyes, the woman seemed far older than her remarkably lineless face would suggest. Perhaps she was simply greying prematurely? Her contemplation was interrupted, however, by the stranger breaking out of her own reverie, and turning to leave with a few brief parting words.

"I won't keep you any longer. This was all very silly and thoughtless of me. You are obviously a busy woman."

"You aren't keeping me from anything I'm looking forward to, believe me. Besides, you seemed to mention being lost? Can I help you with directions?"

"Ah, yes, well, I am not too familiar with this part of the city and I'd lost my bearings for a moment, but I'm quite sure I've managed to find what I was looking for. I will be fine. Thank you for your concern."

"Still, I feel horrible for crashing into you like that! My house is just around the corner, would you care for some tea?"

The woman seemed to freeze, as if Ikuko had suggested something unfathomable and impossible to her, or if she'd just heard something startling – and was still listening to whatever it was. Ikuko looked around them and could neither hear nor see anything out of the ordinary.

"Oh, I'm not sure that would be wise – I wouldn't want to impose on you and your daughter."

"Nonsense, it's the least I can do. Besides, Usagi isn't home at the moment."

The woman seemed honestly surprised at this, and even, if Ikuko squinted, slightly disapproving.

"You just let her wander off on her own like that?"

"She's a big enough girl. I'm sure when your daughter gets older you'll feel the same – it's quite normal for new mothers to hover over their children and not want to let them out of their sight. I admit, it took me quite a while to reach that point with Usagi, but as you can see," Ikuko concluded with a shrug, "I did."

The stranger smiled a slight, rueful smile.

"I am not sure I'll ever get there. But fine, I concede. We can go to your house for some tea - and you can tell me all about your daughter."

"Oh, I have a few choice things to tell you about her, all right," Ikuko almost growled, picking up all her bags with one hand and taking the stranger's arm with the other. The woman seemed startled at the far too familiar action at first, but quickly relaxed into the touch and let herself be all but dragged along, silver hair flowing behind the pair like streamers in the afternoon breeze.

* * *

><p>In a dimension all to herself, Sailor Pluto stood, silently observing as time unfolded around her. Casting a quick glance through a misty window into Earth's late 20th century Tokyo, she froze, then let her head fall into her hands with a long, muffled groan that might have been interpreted as a rather dramatic <em>what is she THINKING<em> - had anyone been there to hear.


End file.
